


Kitten Heels

by ladyofreylo



Series: Real Person Fiction [9]
Category: Real Person Fiction, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Adam Driver - Freeform, F/M, First Meeting, No Smut, POV First Person, don't read if you don't like real person fiction, meet cute, real person fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:36:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27644912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofreylo/pseuds/ladyofreylo
Summary: This is a Real Person Fiction meet cute story.  If you don't like RPF, please don't read.When Joey slips into her new apartment building behind a tall, dark stranger, she is stopped at the door as a suspected "fan."  She has no idea what that means until she steps into the elevator with the stranger.Celebrity alert!She finds herself falling for him immediately.
Relationships: Adam Driver/Original Female Character(s), Adam Driver/You
Series: Real Person Fiction [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1777357
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	Kitten Heels

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, if you don't want to read about Adam, please don't continue.
> 
> This is my own birthday story for myself. Happy birthday to me--and to Adam.

It was all I could do to keep up with the tall man dressed in an expensive suit, striding toward the door of my new apartment building. I saw him jump out of a dark SUV and head for the door as I was exiting my Uber. I was hoping he’d hold the door for me so I didn’t have to struggle looking for my key inside my silk evening purse on a stupidly long chain. The kitten heels and tight black dress didn’t help me maneuver very easily, but I did what I could.

I nipped in behind the tall individual just as the doorman opened the door and murmured a greeting.

I had forgotten there was a doorman. I was not used to this kind of posh living arrangement.

The man in the suit stopped at the security desk. I was about to walk on by with a quick wave, but the security guard at the desk rose from his seat.

“Miss, you can’t be in here.” He pointed at me.

“I’m sorry,” I said, barely glancing at the man standing to the side of the desk. “I live here.”

The man turned quickly to glance at me and then presented his broad back to me again.

“I guess it’s okay,” he muttered to the guard in a low, deep voice. It sent a little shiver down my spine. Had he signaled to someone that I was a suspicious-looking person?

“Can’t be too sure these days, Mr… uh.” The guard cut off his words at the short shake of the tall man’s head.

I shot a glance between the two of them. The man turned for a moment. I caught a glimpse of a profile featuring wavy dark hair, a long, patrician nose, full lips, and a clipped goatee.

“My ID,” I offered. “I am house-sitting in 604, Indica Washington’s place. I’m subletting for a few months.”

“Oh. Sorry about that, thought you were a fan,” the security guard said, smiling. “I’d heard Miss Washington had someone moving in.” He took my license and looked something up on a clipboard. “Yes, Miss. Here you are. My mistake.”

“A fan?” I asked. I couldn’t figure out what the hell he meant.

“Take care, Mr. Richards.” The tall man knocked on the top of the security desk and strode away.

He pressed the button on the elevator.

I scrambled behind him yet again. “Hold please,” I called.

He turned to look at me.

Oh.

A fan. I suddenly understood.

Actor alert.

People around here were noted for not caring much about celeb sightings. I had seen my share since arriving here and tried to be as nonchalant as the locals.

He held the elevator door for me with one giant paw. The elevator didn’t fucking dare close on him.

I slipped in, feeling small and short, which I was in comparison to this massive person standing next to me.

I had no idea what to say so I said nothing for a moment.

I stole a quick glance. He shuffled his feet and pulled at his tie, rolling his big shoulders inside what was obviously an uncomfortable suit. I saw the nervous energy that poured off of him.

Instead of biting my tongue, I decided, for no apparent reason, to blurt something out. “I’m not a fan,” I said.

His brows rose. “Pardon?”

I was in it now. “Uh, I’m not a fan.”

“Oh?” His face showed polite interest. “Okay.” His unusual Juilliard-mixed-with-Midwest accent made him draw the word out. I had heard him speak like this in movies. The sound made me draw in a breath.

“Well.” I said, deciding for no good reason to make it much, much worse. “I mean, we’re all fans in general. But not specifically.” I paused wondering what the fuck I was saying. He apparently did, too.

“I see,” he said.

“What I mean to say is that I’m not one of those who thirst tweets about…” I indicated his person with a wave of my hand. Then I drew a breath. “You know, on Twitter.”

He nodded and stared at me with his eyes that seemed light brown in the fluorescents.

“I’m glad to hear that. My mistake.”

The elevator pinged.

“My floor,” I said unnecessarily. The door opened. “It was nice to meet you.” I stepped over the threshold and my kitten heel decided to catch in the slot where the door would slide closed.

I managed to trip right into the hallway and fall on my face. My tiny evening bag went flying and my tits tried to climb out of my tight dress.

“Holy shit.” He jumped out of the elevator.

The door tried to close on my foot. I felt his big hand pull it out of the way. His fingers wound all the way around my ankle.

I wear the tiniest damn shoes in the known world to match my tiny feet and tiny ankles.

He knelt beside me, while I pushed myself up on my arms.

“Are you all right?” He touched my back.

“Yeah,” I said. “I think.”

I tried to surreptitiously stuff my boobs back into my dress. Although they weren’t fully popped out, I was showing a lot of cleavage. And a lot of black lace bra.

His eyes dipped down and then back up to my face. Which was on fire. I felt like a damned idiot.

I tried to get up.

“Wait,” he said quickly. “Let me check for broken bones or concussions or something.” He touched each of my arms. “These okay? Not hurting?”

“No,” I said, about to faint at the idea of this man touching me.

He asked about my legs and had me move them.

“Did you hit your head?”

“No,” I said. “I fell on my hands and arms.” I showed him the redness of my palms and forearms. “I scraped myself.” I twisted my wrists and cried out a little at the pain that shot through one. “Must have hit this one.”

He reached out a hand. I put my wrist in it and let him gently feel the bones and tendons. His warm, calloused hand also wrapped easily around it.

“You may have a sprain,” he said. “Let me help you up.”

With one arm around my waist, he drew me up to my feet.

“Those shoes seem dangerous.” He pointed to my feet.

“It’s what I get for dressing up,” I said. I pushed my long hair back over my shoulders and straightened up. “I didn’t mean to pratfall out of the elevator. I swear it wasn’t on purpose.”

His eyes crinkled as he laughed his famous chuckle. “I never thought it was, since you don’t thirst tweet or anything.”

“Scout’s honor.” I held up my hand and winced a little. “Shit.”

“Put some ice on those palms--and that wrist,” he said. “I didn’t catch your name. I’m Adam.”

“Joey,” I said.

“I’d shake your hand, but…” He indicated my bruised palm.

“It’s quite all right. Thanks for rescuing me.”

He tilted his head to one side. “You know who I am. I guess.”

I nodded. “Sure, sure. You’re the guy who played on _Saturday Night Live_ , right?”

“Right,” he said slowly, his brow furrowing a bit.

“Yeah, you were the one in that movie, _The Water Boy_.”

His brows rose. “No, that’s Adam Sandler.”

“Oh,” I said. “Right.” I paused and stared at him.

His lips twitched for a second. He clearly didn’t know whether to laugh or not.

“You’re the one in Maroon 5 that sings you’ve got moves like Jagger.”

The ghost of a smile flitted across his face. “That’s Adam Levine.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, of course, my bad. You’re Batman.”

He grinned at me. “That would be Adam West.”

I shook my head. “I’m just not getting it right. Ok, no, wait. You’re the guy who peed on his girlfriend.”

He outright laughed at that. “You’re getting closer. That’s not a real person, though. That’s just a character I played. Adam Sackler.”

“Right. Right. Right.” I closed one eye and looked at him.

He was grinning at me and still laughing a little. “Starts with a D.”

“I got it. You named all the animals.”

Then he burst out laughing. “No, but I was named after him.” He paused. “Who the hell are you?”

“Your new neighbor.” I smiled at him. “Nice to meet you.”

“Let me walk you to your door,” he said.

“All right.”

When we arrived, he turned to look at me. His hands rested on my shoulders. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I looked up into his gaze. “Hard to say,” I murmured, inhaling his warm, spicy fragrance.

He slowly smiled. “Yeah,” he replied. His eyes dipped to my mouth. “Yeah.”

The moment passed and I dug my keys out of my black silk evening bag with the stupid long chain. “Here they are,” I said unnecessarily and fiddled around trying to insert the key into the lock with hands that shook a bit.

He reached out and steadied my hand. “Your wrist might be sprained,” he said into my hair.

“Yes,” I replied, again, rather unnecessarily.

We got my door open. I felt hot all over with the blush that crept up into my face.

He stepped back suddenly, taking his intoxicating smell with him. I felt a little drunk.

I suddenly said, oh-so-brightly, “Feel free to knock me up sometime.”

I sucked in a breath when I heard what I’d said. 

I wanted to die.

“I mean, look me up...or, or knock on my door,” I stammered. “Fuck.”

I peeped at his face, which was a study in surprise and amusement.

“We’d have to get to know each other better first, I think,” he said drily. Then he rubbed his beard and smoothed away his huge grin. “But maybe I could do that, Joey. You never know.” He paused. “Ice on that wrist and I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I said, a little breathless. “Thanks.”

He nodded. Then he moved toward me again, leaned down toward my face, and slowly brushed his lips against my cheek.

“Tomorrow,” he whispered.


End file.
